


Getting warm

by Splinter



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Post-Movie(s), Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 10:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11712426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splinter/pseuds/Splinter
Summary: The risk of it shocks him. She’s barefoot and naked, half-wrapped in his shirt. Citadel territory is about as safe as anywhere can be in the Wasteland, and certainly no one here is likely to risk a fight with Furiosa. As his brain automatically tots up the odds, the likelihood of danger, he is just staring at her, at the sun on her bare skin.Fill for thesmutty_arts prompt challenge, inspired by the wonderfulyoukaiyume'snsfw art.





	Getting warm

They hadn’t expected this much water. 

They’re exploring a cavern at the base of one of the Citadel’s towers, one that has lain hidden for thousands of days. Furiosa must be one of the few who remember when it was walled up: she’d told the council about the eviction of the Wretched who had been using it as a shelter, about Joe’s insistence that the security of the Citadel depended on it.

“There was a rumour it had water,” she had added. From what Max knows of the old Citadel, that would have done it, regardless of any defensive risks. Joe would not have tolerated any alternative to the aqua-cola doled out from his spigots.

The doorway has been closed with boulders and cement, carefully enough that it looks natural, part of the rock crag. They’ve brought drilling and blasting equipment, enough to clear a narrow gap rather than the whole doorway. Max’s instinct had been for a bigger blast, but Furiosa wants to keep it low-key.

It’s not likely that anyone will guess what they’re up to. For Max and Furiosa to test explosives is… not surprising, while the shortness of Wretched lives has tended to turn memory into myth. The cave is on the outer wall of the water tower, out of sight of the central courtyard. Nobody seems to be paying them much mind. 

Furiosa steps through the gap they’ve opened, her cranklight ready. She’s got it lit by the time Max has squeezed through the door.

The passage leads down into a large cavern, chilly after the afternoon heat outside. The walls are smooth and irregular enough to suggest natural rock formation. The pool covers most of the sloping floor. He’d guess that it’s a metre deep at least, probably more by the far wall. And it’s fresh water: he can smell it. There’s no sign of pipework, of any human intervention. This might be a leak from the central reservoir, which lies somewhere on the other side of that wall of rock, or a separate spring.

Furiosa tosses a pebble into the water. Then she puts the lamp down and starts to unstrap her arm.

She can swim. From stories the Vuvalini have told, Max assumes that she learned in the pools of the Green Place. For a moment, he imagines a younger Furiosa, free in the water, splashing and diving. If she’s going to test for the depth and source of this pool, it will help if he can hold the lamp for her. It’s cool in the cavern, and Max has no doubt at all that the water will be very, very cold. Rather slowly, he starts to take off his jacket. 

As they undress, he catches himself looking at her body in the harsh lamplight: the curve of her belly, the way her nipples have perked up from the chill. She notices, grinning at him before she turns to wade into the water.

Stepping in after her, he gasps at the cold. If his cock was showing an interest, the temperature of the water puts a stop to that. He thinks he can feel the hot blood hastily retreating into the centre of his body.

Furiosa walks slowly, each step a test of the uneven floor. Max follows her, holding the lamp high. By the time they reach the far wall, the water is chest deep. She turns to move along the wall, her shoulders tense at the cold, feeling for gaps with every step.

“Here,” she says at last, having found a space. She retraces her steps, body tilting as she explores with her foot, until the water is up to her chin. “There’s a space, it slopes away. About three metres wide.” She frowns. “Might be a current…?” Then, with a deep breath, “I’m gonna dive.” 

Lamp in hand, he can see her as a shadow moving through the dark water, feeling her way along the gap. When she surfaces, breathing hard, she’s shaking her head. 

“Too narrow to swim through. We’ll have to check the other side.” 

Though they’re pretty sure they’ve found the source, she goes over the rest of the pool, step by precise, icy step. By the time Max comes out of the water, the air feels warm against his skin. It’s a relief to remember that Furiosa had brought a towel: she’s careful to keep moisture away from her arm. She dries herself quickly, then hands the cloth to Max.

He’s fastening his leathers when he notices her fumbling with her clothes. She’s so deft that he almost forgets she has one hand to work with. It’s rare for her to be slower at dressing than he is. Then he sees her shiver.

“Hey.” The towel is already wet, so he picks up his shirt and starts rubbing at her, stroking away any drops of water and trying to chafe warmth into her limbs. She laughs but leans into it, her skin cool where he touches her. It’s so chilly here: he draws her closer to the opening, where they can feel warmer air from outside. She gives a pleased little noise, moving into the doorway. Then she steps right through it.

The risk of it shocks him. She’s barefoot and naked, half-wrapped in his shirt. Citadel territory is about as safe as anywhere can be in the Wasteland, and certainly no one here is likely to risk a fight with Furiosa. It’s still daylight; any attacker from outside would wait for nightfall. As his brain automatically tots up the odds, the likelihood of danger, he is just staring at her, at the sun on her bare skin. 

She tips her head back to soak up the warmth, the tension dropping from her shoulders. When she opens her eyes, she’s looking right at him.

It’s not even teasing. He must be almost invisible, standing in the shadow of the doorway, but her eyes are on him, bright and sure. Max walks out to her, out into the open.

The evening air feels soft and welcoming after the cool of the cave. Their clothes and her arm will be safe enough: they can finish dressing when they’re properly warm. He’s still counting the risks as he reaches for her, for his shirt, starts towelling her again.

She rests against him, against his bare chest, and somehow that’s what reminds him that she’s naked, she’s in his arms and she’s fucking naked, out here in the desert where anyone could see them. He’s breathing faster, his pulse hard and fast in his throat, as he tries to concentrate on rubbing warmth into her. Which does nothing to distract him from the fact that she’s naked.

She shifts position, tugging at the shirt, and Max finds himself stroking bare skin, feeling her wriggle as she leans back against him. He can’t resist kissing her shoulder, smiling at the sound she makes. She wriggles again, and then she’s grinding, rubbing herself against him, her soft skin against the roughness of leather and his cock hardening under it. 

He swallows a groan, but not quickly enough: she huffs with laughter as she presses against him, taking hold of his wrist. Her fingers are still colder than he’d like, but he loses track of that when she pulls his hand between her legs. Her internal body temperature is clearly just fine, hot and wet under his fingers. 

They’re still in the shelter of the rocks. Their own snipers would spot an approach from the desert, long before anyone got close enough to see them. At the thought of the Citadel’s defences, Max realises they might be visible from above, is glancing up to check when he feels Furiosa twitch impatiently. He’s losing concentration, and to hell with the lookouts. He starts stroking faster, fingers pressing, his other hand on her breast as he nibbles at her neck. He can’t help growling when she moans.

She’s panting now, a sheen of sweat between them where she’s leaning against him. He slows down, just enough to tease, amazed at his own recklessness. They’re out in the open and it’s not safe but he wants to feel her shake under his fingers, to feel her let go. She’s hanging onto the arm he has wrapped around her ribs, gasping, definitely getting there. He holds her tight as she comes, her knees trembling, her cunt clenching against his hand. 

Max is kissing her neck, her shoulder, feeling her soft and warm in his arms. She leans against him for a moment, catching her breath. It still takes him by surprise when she turns, the shirt falling to the sand as she kisses him. His cock feels trapped in too-tight leather. She’s bare, pressing against him, completely exposed and she doesn’t seem to care. 

“C’mon,” she murmurs, right in his ear, nudging at him. Almost without meaning to, Max finds himself down on the ground, legs sprawled wide, with Furiosa crouched between them as she reaches for his fastenings. Her fingers are back to their usual cleverness; he groans with relief as she gets his cock out, her fingers cool but not freezing against his heated skin. 

She rests her hand flat on his belly and leans in to kiss him, soft and slow, nipping at his lip. By the time her hand is warmer, he’s bobbing with hardness, panting at the danger of it, at how very gently she’s taking him apart.

She swipes one fingertip up the underside of his cock, up to the precum on the head. She spreads it down, careful and not at all fast. He can’t believe how slowly she’s taking it, except that he can: of course he can, he knows exactly how stubborn she is, and how thorough. 

She’s kneeling between his legs, over him. Her glint of mischief has faded: she’s flushed and serious, entirely focused on him. It’s overwhelming. Max is biting his lip, trying to hold still for her. Somehow he’s gone from counting the odds to trying not to come too fast, letting her do whatever she wants with him.

Furiosa starts to stroke, her hand curling just right. Her rhythm is steady and slow, with lots of teasing at the head of his cock. His breath catches when she does that, at just that quirk of her fingers. She leans in, her balance shifting as she works at him. When she tips forward, Max instinctively moves to steady her, grasping her shortened forearm.

He’s tried to be careful around her nub. At first, he didn’t know if it was sensitive, or if she was sensitive about it. Gradually, he’s realised that she’s much more at ease with it than he is about his damaged leg. She lets him help her with her prosthetic, at first with the buckles and now with her metal hand. It still feels new, holding her by that arm. Looking down at him, she leans into it, letting him take more of her weight.

Max is holding on tight, feeling her balance herself above him as her hand keeps stroking. His heart is pounding harder, his cock hot and straining under her touch. She’s panting, too, her cheeks pink as she looks at him, wanting him. Her breasts look so soft against the hard muscle of her torso, swinging just a little as she moves. He can’t help marvelling at her, how blazingly brave she is, how she can bare herself even as she’s unravelling him.

“Furi –” He reaches up to stroke her hair, to cup her head. He’s breathing too hard to kiss her for long, but he wants to taste her, to feel her lips. The rush of orgasm is starting, as if it’s his whole self thrusting up into her hand.

“Max –” He comes on the sound of his name.

He’s not sure if he loses his grip on her arm, or if she just rocks in. By the time the wave of it passes, they’re in a tangled heap, clinging together, come smeared across his belly and her cheek against his. He pulls her closer, warm and - not safe, not really safe, but here in his arms. She snuggles in, then nudges him.

“Won’t think we were looking for a cave, anyhow.”

Max starts to laugh – all that was camouflage? – but it turns into a murmur when she kisses him again.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm at [lurkinghistoric](http://lurkinghistoric.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.


End file.
